But that quickly shifted when the very real possibility of falling to my death entered my brain.

Nick and I were on our way back to Moab from two days in the eastern Utah wilderness chasing the last bits of desert heat, when we came upon a giant structure with an epic gaping hole formation.

Instantly we were drawn to climb it.

The red desert sandstone is inviting with its gentle slopes and sticky rock surface.

Nick easily galloped ahead, while I was slower, slightly more cautious (and have legitimately shorter legs!!).

And as he approached the hole, phone in hand and already snapping pictures, I, about 20 feet behind him, was suddenly paralyzed with fear.

I was stuck.

All of a sudden, the rock formation went from gentle incline to nearly vertical.

And me, in boots more suited for walking than climbing, and nails more suited for... well, being glamorous more than being adventurous, I felt my breath shorten and fear take hold.

I sat down in a tiny nook right underneath me, a six inch oasis of semi-flat in an ocean of steep terror. I wondered not just HOW, but literally IF I was going to make it to that hole.

I could hear voices from the other side of the hole.

Nick, being cheeky, wouldn’t tell me what was over there. I had to scale the distance and find out for myself.

Cheeky as he was, he lovingly traced his steps back to me, encouraged me to ditch my boots and scale the remaining terrifying 20 feet barefoot, where I had more tactile control.

I sat there in that moment contemplating my choices.

I could celebrate how far I’d come, accept that I’d made it as far as my body and fear would allow, and perhaps return to this formation another day with better shoes, capable hands, in better shape....

Or, I could trust my partner, take his suggestion, lean into his support, and fucking go for it.

Deep in my heart, there really was no choice; no other option.

So there, on the side of this exquisite red rock formation, I kicked my weathered cowgirl boots off, and got up, turned around, and hugged the side of that rock like it was my intimate partner.

Twenty feet felt like a thousand. Nick offered his feet for me to stand on when I couldn’t find a foothold. He had his strong capable hand almost up my ass supporting my booty when I couldn’t find my handling.

Slowly, steadily, and with a whole lot of cursing and crying, I made it that last stretch to the hole. Hurrah!

Exhilarated, I savored the moment, and the tremendous view, well worth the climb.

The reason why I share this story with you is because I KNOW I go farther in life with Nick as my partner.

When we run together, I run faster because he’s with me (that leg length thing again…😂😂😉😉)

Because of his influence, I am more driven and committed to seeing my goals to fruition, less likely to give up in the final stretch, no matter how freaked out or terrified I am.

On top of that, our partnership inspires me to be a better person every day, to continuously grow, and keep reaching beyond my comfort zone.

Imagine what your life would look like if you had this kind of support and inspiration?